


falling after you

by sinningjul (Julx3tte)



Series: surewhynot [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Roommates to lovers, Smut, Smut and Fluff, Team Sin, hands tag, just pure unbridled gratuity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julx3tte/pseuds/sinningjul
Summary: after everyone goes home, ingrid claims her prizesequel to "sure, why not"
Relationships: Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: surewhynot [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802293
Comments: 13
Kudos: 43





	falling after you

The party cleared out pretty quickly after Sylvain’s crushing loss on the final song.

Ingrid had been keeping a Just Dance related secret - whenever she had time home alone, she had been secretly practicing a few songs on a different account and trying to match Sylvain’s scores. A few gave Ingrid enough of a workout that they were worth playing over and over again -  _ Old Town Road _ was among them.

Sylvain gaped as Ingrid hit perfect note after perfect note, and the rest of the Lions celebrated her victory with shots of water, provided by the mostly sober ladies. Sylvain, begrudgingly, brought out a small trophy he’d bought for the winner.

Dedue, who had recovered faster than everyone else, called an Uber for himself and Ashe, while Felix followed Annette and Mercedes back to their apartment. No one said anything about Dimitri, who simply followed as Byleth led him by the hand out of the door.

As the room emptied, a very tired Ingrid and Sylvain sat in their own apartment, staring at each other across the couch. They’d shut off the brightest kitchen lights, leaving the pale glow of the TV and the warmth of the lamp on.

He’d been feeling the wooziness from dancing while drunk. It was normally a rare thrill that Sylvian let himself enjoy, but tonight, the sudden silence sobered him up.

_ Sure, why not _ . Ingrid, had looked serious. It wasn’t the first time, especially while both intoxicated, that he’d pulled a line on her. It was the first time she’d responded with anything but a scoff or a flick to the head.

And she looked so  _ serious.  _ There was a nonchalant-ness to Ingrid when she was determined - and the squint she’d given him before answering was her sussing him out, seeing whether he’d own the game he was playing. 

And this was decision time. Across the couch, Ingrid had pulled her legs up to her chest, covering her underwear. He sprawled on the other arm of the couch, as casual as he could.

Since everyone had left, the apartment had gotten colder. 

“So,” Ingrid said. Sylvain’s eyes flickered to the black outline of her panties, barely visible between her ankles. They flicked back to Ingrid throwing him another not-quite-irked look.

“So,” Sylvain said back. He moved his own hands on his lap to cover up.

“So my prize?” Ingrid, asked. It made Sylvain nervous. He… he wasn’t kidding. Seeing her take over the night, dance, and let herself be goaded into stripping for him was turning him on in a way Ingrid never had before. He was nervous about what that meant, and he was nervous about how real this was. Was she joking back, playing flirt against him? Or did she really want to take him and bed him?

“Right…” he answered, trying to buy himself some more time.

“You’re being uncharacteristically shy for someone that just offered me a private dance,” she said, resting her cheek on her knee. It was adorable as hell. “Where’d all that confidence go?” 

Sylvain nodded in agreement, then shook his head. “Uhhh…”

“Alcohol wearing off?” Now, Ingrid was pouting her lips. She was trying to be cute, and it was kind of working. For a woman that’s crafted her whole look on being fierce, she took to what were probably lessons from Dorothea a little too well. 

“I may be realizing the impact of my words right now,” he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck. 

“You can take them back you know,” Ingrid offered, shrugging. It was clear to him that she didn’t quite want him to, but it was unclear why. It wasn’t like anything had changed between them, and it wasn’t like Ingrid to make bad drunk decisions. 

Sylvain bit his lip. The only way forward with her was the truth .

“I… just realized why I’ve been so invested in trying to win,” he confessed.

“Yeah?” She stopped the flirting and looked at him seriously, and Sylvain smiled reflexively. Leave it to Ingrid to tell when he needed to say something serious.

“But why are you so invested?” he fired back. Telling her was easy. Kissing her would be easy. Showing her how she made his body feel, well all he’d have to do was move his hands a little bit. 

“I wasn’t,” she said, now resting her chin on her knee, “until you started trying way too hard to get me naked. I mean, dude, we’ve lived together for years and you’ve seen me walk out of the shower at least a dozen times.” 

She paused, starting a word only to bite her tongue and try again. “So I asked myself why and figured it out and decided it’d be worth following through.” As if it were simple - as if life’s mysteries were straightforward, easily overcome with enough willpower and force - Ingrid cut right through to the heart of what Sylvain was trying to put to words. He loved that about her.

If honesty was the way forward, then he’d have to put a hurdle up for her to smash. Sylvain sat up quickly, took note of the way Ingrid’s eyes flicked to his core as he flexed, and crossed the distance between their faces. A few inches before their faces met, he paused, asking an unspoken question. Ingrid gave the barest of nods.

Then he kissed her.

He was trying to convey a complicated set of feelings, and it would take infinitely more work to find words for them all. All Sylvain knew was that, suddenly, he wanted to take Ingrid to bed and have his way with her in ways that he’d never imagined Ingrid to prefer. The thought of that made his heart palpitate too fast for the amount of alcohol he’d had tonight.

Somewhere in the last few hours he’d crossed the line from knowing it as fact that she was attractive, to realizing that his roommate, Ingrid, was damn attractive.

And sure, at some point he realized he needed to see more of her without clothes, even though he… lived with her and already had. But at the center of it all was a set of feelings he’d buried and did away with and denied himself. So, Sylvain rushed headfirst into the thick of it.

His mind blanked as he captured Ingrid’s lips between his. They were far softer than they had any right to be - which only encouraged him to press in, cupping her jaw gently with his palm.

Ingrid, to his surprise, was just as involved. She pulled him in by the back of his neck until his chest met her legs, still tucked in between them. Then, she grunted, pushing him away to rearrange herself so that she could wrap her legs around his torso. 

The feeling was heavenly. Ingrid let a few satisfied sighs escape, and the same back-of-the-neck voice that told him earlier in the night to get her undressed shouted at him to draw more of those beautiful sounds out. He dipped down to kiss the nape of her neck, first, and followed the curve down to her collarbones. Then he bit down softly on the skin right below them.

Ingrid made a sound that he was sure he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

So he bit her again, and again, and, anticipating her response, he ground his hips into hers, pressing her firmly against the couch cushion. 

The move was met with approval. Ingrid’s legs wrapped tighter around him and he teased, nipping her skin and pinning her between himself and the couch again and again and he did not want to stop - not until Ingrid’s voice drowned out the quiet buzz of their apartment. 

He could feel his own breathing going ragged. His hips moved automatically, and the feeling of Ingrid’s hands running through his hair, pulling on it and pulling him down to her skin sent fire through the pit of his belly. Dangerous.

“Ing,” he interrupted, nearly panting. “Ing, we should go to the bedroom.” 

She tilted her head forward to look at him. Ingrid’s cheeks were blushed, and her neck had splotches of pink from where his lips had been. 

“Okay,” she said, breathing heavily. Her fingers were drawing circles around his shoulder blades. “Yeah. Mine or yours?”

Sylvain replied immediately. “Yours.” 

It was a sensible decision. Her room was the first door down the hallway, and he didn’t think he could make it the few extra feet to his bed. He was already straining to keep himself put together. 

Sylvain rolled off of Ingrid and stood up, offering his hand to help her up. Suddenly the chilly apartment air sent goosebumps down his exposed legs. One problem with being tall was, underwear didn’t always scale properly. He’d unfortunately chosen one of the shorter pairs of boxer briefs in his drawers, and they clung to his thighs, outlining his way too noticeable bulge.

Something needed to be done.

It would have been far better to take her right on the couch now, but Ingrid deserved better than that. She deserved the comfort of a real bed, and Sylvain knew he needed to slow them both down before they crossed the next big line.

But then, Ingrid stood up.

Seeing her in nothing but a bra and panties wasn’t new. But Ingrid, seeing the look on his face, tilted her neck up and drew her shoulders back. As if to say,  _ come and get me _ . It set off something primal inside of him. He felt himself burning up, longing to close the distance between them, straining against the fabric of his underwear, wanting her to be closer.

He tugged her by the hand so that she was next to him. His palms slid around her waist, letting the soft feel of her skin glide through, before pressing the pads of his fingers down and pulling her until there was no space in between them.

Ingrid yelped in surprise, and held a breath. Then, she slid one of her legs in between his and released her breath on his chest. He wanted to stand there, to wait and see what she’d do next. He wanted to let her ruin him, but they needed to move. Sylvain put a hand behind the small of her back and began walking them both backwards towards the hallway.

It was a compromise. The only rational way to get them both to a bed was not to split apart again. 

It was like a spell. At every other step, they bumped into each other - specifically, his hips bumped against her waist and every touch sent ripples surging through his core. Sylvain let himself grind against her, daring to let his hands wander down towards the top of the waistband covering her butt.

He didn’t want to touch her there, yet. That line would be a real one. It was one thing for them to walk down their hallway having made out and dry humped on the couch and split up into their separate bedrooms. It was another to commit to spending the night. But god did he want to. 

He stopped them short of opening her door. Ingrid, who found a comfortable position resting her head on his chest, pulled back to look at him. 

“You sure about this Ing?” he asked, one last time. His eyes searched for any hint that she wanted to back off.

Instead, Ingrid’s eyes narrowed. “I want my prize, Sylvian.”

They stepped inside together.

Ingrid’s room had the better window, and the moonlight beamed through the curtains and made the room glow a pleasant silver. 

He’d been in Ingrid’s room dozens of times at different hours and, despite the nearly naked Ingrid taking up all of his attention, there were a few things he’d never noticed.

He’d never noticed how many pictures of him were on her walls. He wasn’t the only one - there were plenty of group photos and selfies with Felix and even a few of Glenn from before he died. But his red hair stood out against the cool tint of the lighting and seeing him already so close to her made it easy to breathe.

She’d maneuvered them right by her bed and used a free hand to open her nightstand. He’d never thought about the inside of that drawer either. There was a nondescript black case and a box of condoms, and a blister pack of pills.

He took a step back to let her undress.

Ingrid stuck out her tongue and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. Then, she drew one of her arms underneath her breasts, framing them. Sylvain’s knees buckled. She blew a raspberry at him and stepped out of her underwear, then promptly sat on the bed. 

“Are you gonna get naked? Or….” she said, to no response. 

Sylvain couldn’t move. He’d seen, well, dozens of partners undress for him. None of them took his breath away the way Ingrid’s silly, ridiculous version of a strip tease did. Somehow, it ticked all of the boxes under the fantasies that Sylvain had never let himself consider. 

He was sure that Ingrid had had other partners before, though she'd always been insanely secretive, to the point where he knew better than to tease her about details. He doubted, though, that any of them had ever seen this side of her. He was trying to burn the sight into his memory. 

He glazed from her to the nightstand. The black box probably held a vibrator inside. The idea of her getting herself off in their apartment almost sent him into a spin - he wanted to join her, to help - and he almost forgot that the real Ingrid was right in front of him. 

Until a condom hit him square in the abs. His arm reflexively caught it, barely, and he glanced up to see an annoyed Ingrid staring up at him.  _ Why are you wasting so much time _ .

Ingrid’s bed was unmade, and she’d kicked what sheets were still on the bed down to the foot, and was using an arm to prop herself up on her side, one leg not quite on top of the other. The sight of her waiting for him almost made him drop the condom anyway. 

She was lovely. 

Ingrid had never been modest about her body - she worked hard to stay fit, and her friends’ influence on her had put her in the crosshairs of more than a few daring men. In the past, Sylvain had acknowledged the objective fact that Ingrid had a good figure and moved on.

If he were being honest, Sylvain had probably seen her topless at one point or another and never registered it. 

Tonight, though, her body was absolutely mesmerizing. It didn’t seem possible to him, after dancing in their underwear for hours earlier in the night, for him to be even  _ more  _ interested in getting her clothes off and having his way with her - but the sight of her waiting for him made it possible.

To hell with it. The condom could wait. He put it back on top of the nightstand and moved to join her. Sylvain had a plan. There were steps to these things, a process to satisfying a partner, and he would follow them.

He slid into the bed next to Ingrid, wrapping part of a blanket around his feet, and remembered that he’d been cold. His body was generating enough heat that it didn't matter. As he rolled into the bed, Ingrid shifted over and pressed her leg against his groin.

“Gah,” he hissed. Ingrid shot him a sly look and what might have been a wink.

“Problems there Sylvain?” she asked, shifting her knee just enough to send another wave through his hips. “You were taking a while.”

He was already sensitive. Her knee was creating precious friction and it was taking his focus away from his plans. The first step of which was to make Ingrid the center of attention. He wanted to wipe away the amused look on her face.

So he kissed her on the neck, first, using his free hand to cup her cheek. Then he let his palms slide down her side, ignoring, for now, the swell of her breasts. Ingrid shifted her torso to anticipate him, but she was wrong.

“Uh uh,” he grunted, raising his head to see her pouting. Then he gave her a small swat on the ribs and she  _ whimpered _ . 

Oh fuck. Sylvain’s hand slid to her hips, just under the ribcage, and he kissed her on the lips hard, groaning. He needed to hear that again. His hand pressed into her hips, and then he gave her another small swat above the hip bone.

Ingrid jerked her hips towards him, groaning into his mouth. 

He wanted desperately to continue, to trail his fingers down her stomach, to tease closer to her core, but some things were too irresistible not to indulge.

So Sylvain cupped Ingrid’s ass and pulled her hips flush against his.

It was heaven. 

Staring at her ass all night did not prepare him for how it felt to hold her. Sylvain wasn’t one for objectifying, but how he’d missed out on realizing Ingrid’s strict workout regimen meant that she was damn fit, he didn’t know. 

She rocked against him each time he flexed his fingers, and he quickly realized he needed to get undressed or slow things down again. It was a blessing he’d kept his boxers on. It was nearly impossible not to pull her on top of him right then and there.

And it helped that it was difficult to move while still laying on their sides. Sylvain did side planks regularly, but between Ingrid’s other hand, which was trapped in between them, and the burn in his shoulder as it started to give, it was time for a move.

That, and that every action only served to escalate a counter action. Each move of her hips made him groan and bite down on her neck, which served only to tell Ingrid to grind against him even harder.

Screw it.

Sylvain rolled Ingrid onto her back, letting her bedsheets pool against his knees as he shifted his weight, and planted his arms to either side of her shoulders. She quickly wrapped her legs around him. He’d never felt more luxurious.

“Better?” she asked between breaths, eyes flicking down past his stomach. Her hands were wrapped around his torso, gently scratching his back.

“No, but I have some things to attend to before that happens,” he replied. It was difficult not to put all of his weight against her now. But process demanded patience, and the second step to treating a partner well was to let sex happen as naturally as possible.

“Like what?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him in. Her legs were restless. They trapped his torso and she dug her knees into his side to pull him closer.

Sylvain dipped his head to kiss the side of her neck, dangerously close to her earlobe, savoring the satisfied “oh” he received for his troubles.

Now there was a question. Sylvain ignored her tightening grip on him and gave her an exploratory nip on the earlobe. Ingrid shivered underneath him. Her quiet mewl confirmed that this was indeed an experiment worth repeating again. 

But right now, he had other priorities. For example, now that she was laying on her back, Ingrid’s chest was in full display for him. Sylvain dipped down to kiss the center of her chest, and dropped one hand to trail a line down her breast.

Ingrid all but shoved his head down so that his mouth was right on the most sensitive part. She was biting her lip to keep from sounding, but each scrape of his lips against her skin coaxed gasp after gasp.

He couldn’t stop now.

Sylvain kissed down to her stomach, letting his legs slide off of the bed. Ingrid’s hands found a fistful of his hair, and she used her grip to pull Sylvain to the side, to her hip, and then where her leg and hips met. He wrapped his arms underneath her legs and lifted, gently nipping her hip bones, and then the sides of each thigh. Ingrid whimpered and shivered at each touch. 

There was something about her legs being so strong that drove Sylvain to want to bring her to madness. He breathed on her sex just to hear her shaky breath whisper the beginnings of his name. 

“Sylvain, I swear to god if you don’t get your face back up here and start fucking me…” she said, breathing between syllables.

Sylvain took the moment to sit up on his knees. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, finally stripping his underwear off and reaching for the condom.

“No need,” she mumbled.

He descended on her. The third part of Sylvian’s satisfaction-guaranteed process was to do most of the work. His previous partners never minded that he wanted them at his mercy - he was resolute to offer a good sex experience. After all, taking care of himself was easy.

But Ingrid was unlike any of his other partners. As he was settling down on top of her, she ambushed him. Ingrid wrapped her arms around his shoulders and threw him under hew, flipping their bodies. He lifted his neck to look above him and met Ingrid’s vengeful squint with a look of desperation.

Her retaliation was maddening. She teased him, riding her hips just up against him and then pulling away before he could slip inside. 

“Ing,” he groaned after a particularly long brush.

“You’ve spent this whole night teasing me, Sylvain,” she answered. Ingrid had a hand on his chest to keep her balance, and was otherwise preoccupied with glaring him down as she moved. “I at least want to see if I can break you.” 

“That’s -gahhh-” Sylvian’s sentence was cut off by Ingrid licking him on the collarbone and biting down on it hard. “--aggressive of you isn’t it?”

“Don’t treat me like some girl you don’t care about bedding,” she replied, eyes boring into his. “You deserve my best too.” 

She bit him just under the neck and Sylvain’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

Ingrid peppered his neck with kisses, and without realizing it, his hands had found their way back to her ass.

She was a talkative lover, something he wouldn’t have assumed. She liked to boast and brag and tease, and every word, every scratch of her nails, and every touch of her hips made him writhe in anticipation.

“Ready, Sylvain?” She asked, positioning herself just right. 

Yes. Yes, he was beyond ready, he was ready to plead. “Good god yes.”

She sank down and flames spread through Sylvain’s body. Finding a rhythm was easy, and every ebb and flow sent pulses of pleasure through him. One of his hands found one of Ingrid’s.

“Hey Sylvain?” Ingrid called, head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“Yeah Ing?” He’d pushed the side of his face against the pillow, doing anything he can to hold on.

“Say my…” Ingrid breathed, cut by a satisfied moan, “...name please.” The satisfaction on her face made her request impossible to decline. He would do anything to give her more.

“Fuck. Fuuuck Ingrid I’m- I’m close.” Sylvain’s hand gripped around hers, his other one tearing at his hair.

“Again,” she whispered, panting, barely able to breathe. “Please.”

He was right on the edge. Just a few more seconds, he opened his mouth to speak and Ingrid sank down fully. “Ingrid,” he whispered slowly as his hips spasmed beyond his control. “Ingrid, Ingrid, Ingrid,” he purred. “Ingrid, please, yes.”

Ingrid bent down to kiss him, covering his offerings of her name with her lips. She kissed him on the side of the lips when his hips had stopped. “Sylvain, touch me, please.”

Finally, Sylvain slid a hand down her belly, finding her core. She hissed when a finger pressed against her, and kissed him wildly as he brought her to climax.

Exhausted, Ingrid kissed him on the jaw, then stood to find the bathroom.

Clarity came to Sylvain as he laid there, waiting for Ingrid to return.

Tonight was beyond his expectations. Sex with Ingrid was as natural as talking to her, as living with her, as being with her. It was just another space for them, and it was everything he wanted.

She was the reason their modest apartment, several tiers below what he could have actually afforded, felt like home. It was sharing a space with her - a couch and a pantry and a hallway and, now, a bed - that made him so comfortable.

A few hours later, the sunlight beamed right into Sylvain’s eyes, and he woke up slowly to the sound of Ingrid’s breathing. She’d curled up next to him and somehow he’d rolled over and wrapped an arm around her. 

His yawn woke her up, and she rolled over to face him. He offered her a morning kiss on the cheek.

Then it occurred to him that, technically, they’d just had a one-night stand. 

“So,” he started, tucking a stand of Ingrid’s hair behind her ears.

“So,” she mirrored, smiling. “Haven’t we been here before?” 

“I was doing some thinking…” he answered. It was true. He had - he’d been thinking about her all night and now he needed to tell her why. 

“Dangerous stuff,” she teased.

“Shut up. Anyway, that was great and all, and you’re fantastic in bed, but. I should probably tell you why I was so invested in last night, shouldn’t I.”

Ingrid bit back a giggle. “Okay.”

“I don’t… ah, dammit. Ah. Willyougooutwithme?” he blurted. Straightforward was the simplest way forward.

Ingrid blinked. “Did you just ask me out  _ after _ we already had sex?” She started to grin and Sylvain didn’t want to have to see the smug look on her face, so he covered half of his face with a hand. 

“Yeah, look. I don’t want this to be a friends with benefits thing. I… I like and respect you too much and I know I’m not really your typical dating type but-”

“Let me stop you right there.” she interrupted. She had a hand on his shoulder and it looked like she was about to topple him over again. “We slept together Sylvian, I don’t do that with dates.”

It was Sylvain’s turn to blink. “Wait, so uh. What?”

“Syl, we’ve been best friends for like two decades and roommates for three years, I think I could add ‘boyfriend’ to the list and not have any problems.” She kissed him on the cheek and nudged him on the shoulder, forcing him on his back. Ingrid laid down on his shoulder. 

He inhaled deeply. The feeling of her body cuddled up against his was plenty enough. That this might be for more than just today could wait. For now, he had what he needed.

“Oh. Okay then,” he replied. “I guess I’m your prize.” Sylvain wrapped his arm around her and closed his eyes. 

Ingrid patted his chest. “Damn straight.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my GOd what an undertaking. I am officially #teamsin. Wrong fandom, but shoutout petals.
> 
> Thank you to Those Who Share One Braincell With Me (TWSOBWM) - not going to gift this, but y’all made this all possible. Shoutout to Sylvgrid discord for being such a supportive and vibrant community.
> 
> Here are some happy outtakes:
> 
> He slunk into the bed next to her, wrapping part of a blanket around his feet, and remembered that he’d been cold. His body was generating enough heat that it didn't matter. As he rolled into the bed, Ingrid scooted over and pressed her leg against his snake.
> 
> She twerked aggressively under the blanket - his snake twitched in surprise.
> 
> His hand smushed Ingrid’s tush and he oppressed her hips flush against his.
> 
> She rocked against his snake each time he fixed his fingers, and he quickly realized he needed to get undressed or slow things down again. It was a blessing he’d kept his boxers on.
> 
> Oh fuck. Sylvain’s hand slid to her DMs, just under the ribcage, and he kissed her on the lips hard, groaning. He needed to hear that again. His hand depressed into her hips, and then he gave her another small thwack above the hip bone.
> 
> Ingrid twerked her hips towards him, groaning into his mouth. 
> 
> Sylvain’s kind snake was surprised by the gesture
> 
> Her quiet mew confirmed that it was an experiment worth repeating, later. (I later learned the right phrase was “mewl”)
> 
> Her quiet mewtwo confirmed that it was an experiment worth repeating, later.  
> Her quiet entei confirmed that it was an experiment worth repeating, later.  
> Her quiet groudon confirmed that it was an experiment worth repeating, later.  
> Her quiet lugia confirmed that it was an experiment worth repeating, later.


End file.
